


The Twins Series 1:  Third Time's the Charm

by KS_POI_Pretender_Fan



Series: The Twins Series [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan/pseuds/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Should they or shouldn't they? Summary stinks, but give it a shot for some humor and family moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Bitten

* * *

 

**Present:**

"Gracie, we aren't supposed to be messing with Uncle Harold's computers," the little girl whispered; her eyes worried as she tugged on her twin sister's arm.

"Shhhh, Joss, it's not like they said we couldn't be up here, they just said be careful," Gracie retorted in a whisper, her eyes taking in the bank of monitors in front at their Uncle Harold desk. "Besides, it's not like we're running lose in the Library. Uncle Harold is right here, somewhere . . ."

"We are so going to get in trouble; we're supposed to stay with Bear," four year old Joss stated, holding Gracie back, their matching blue eyes locking. Their mommy and daddy were both busy so they had to stay with Uncle Harold in the library.

"You are such a nervous Nelly," her twin sister laughed, brushing a strand of her dark hair away from her eyes with a smirk similar to their Daddy's. She sat down at Uncle Harold's desk and started to fiercely tap away at the keyboard.

"It's just like watching Uncle Harold watching Daddy work," Joss said sulkily, but her eyes shone with curiosity as her sister continued to punch at the keyboard.

"Daddy was in the Army?" Gracie asked, her eyes going wide at the overabundance of information suddenly within their fingertips.

"Hey, and the CIA too," Joss added, pulling up a chair and staring at the information Gracie brought up onto the monitors.

They were both looking at the picture frame on their Uncle's desk. It was Auntie Joss she got married. "She's beautiful."

"Did you ever wonder why mommy and daddy don't have a picture like that?"

They heard a door slam. "Oh no! Quick, blank out the screen, blank out the screen," Joss said, hurrying to make it appear as though they weren't doing what they were doing.

"Calm down, I can't think," Gracie shrieked, fiercely tapping at the keyboard.

With a quirk of his lip, Harold Finch asked. "What are you girls up to?"

"Nothing Uncle Harold."

* * *

**Five Years Ago:**

No matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to get it right. Still, after a year, he should have known better than to show up at her apartment out of the blue, but he just couldn't help himself. After everything he had gone through the past several weeks, it was clear that he wasn't invincible, that he wouldn't be able to cheat death again and again. He was finding it difficult, no impossible, to return to the existing situation. His focus wasn't what it used to be. The possibility of having a normal life with her before it was too late was on his mind constantly.

That was why he showed up at her apartment: to ask her. He came to tell her that, despite everything that had been going on, he was so very thankful that it was she who was there for him. He came to tell her that he was appreciative that it was her voice on the other end of the phone in the middle of those long and difficult nights. He came to tell her that, despite the unpleasant circumstances at times, it felt right to be working together on occasion, to protect each other always. Nothing had felt so right for him in a very long time. And, finally, he came to tell her that, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her and the life they could have together, a life he hadn't permitted himself to yearn for. Until now…

"Zoe Morgan, will you be my wife," he asked earnestly.

Apparently, that wasn't what she was expecting to hear from him. "You're asking me to marry you because you're not getting any younger? You're asking me to marry you because you're afraid of dying alone? Thanks so much John that makes me feel like a prize." That's when the vase came careening toward him. He was glad for his quick reaction. From that point on, their encounter went pretty much as one might expect and came to a rather quick end after she rattled off a succession of curses that slandered both his lineage and himself. She snarled venomously, stomped to her room, and slammed the door behind her.

So why was he still there, perched on the couch like a moron? Because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He just couldn't do it anymore; he could no longer walk away from her without knowing if she would be there in the morning or the next or the next. So, he made himself comfortable, lying on her couch, all night if he needed to. He knew that she knew he was still here; she could feel him close-by, just like he could feel her. So he let her fume, it suited him just fine. If her couch was as close as he was getting that night, then he'd rather be there than anywhere else on earth.

He was jolted awake by a sound. He sat up cautiously, half expecting another item to be thrown his way. Instead she just stood in the doorway in her pajamas, her arms crossed at her chest, her brow furrowed in frustration. He sighed, hoping to portray a calmness that wasn't there.

"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Nope," he replied with a shrug.

"Then I guess you'd better come into the bedroom. Your reasoning leaves a lot to be desired John; think about it more the next time you ask me."

 

* * *

 


	2. Twice Shy

* * *

**Present:**

As John walked into the library, hands deep in the pockets of his suit pants, Finch's voice called out to him. Following the sounds of giggling little four year olds, he found what he was looking for.

"Daddy," immediately, two little bundles assaulted his legs and had him trapped.

"Girls, why don't you get your things together and we can head home."

"Finch?"

Finch's eyes shone with merriment as he started to pick up the little tea set the girls were playing with. "Your little heathens have been very curious today. They want to know why their mother doesn't have a wedding picture like their Auntie Joss."

Motioning towards the wedding portrait of Detectives Carter and Beecher, Finch leveled a gaze towards the ex-CIA op. "When are you going to ask her?"

John rolled his eyes. "Whenever I think she won't throw a vase at my head," he responded.

Finch's eyes jested. "Oh, I think you're more than capable of dodging anything thrown your way."

John chuffed. "Actually, I was thinking of asking the girls for suggestions. They are exactly like their mother; so who would know better? I'm hoping she might actually be willing to consider it then."

"I think she will," Finch confided.

"I hope so," John groused. "It's been nearly five years since I brought it up. If that's not long enough, I don't know what is." He had hoped that tonight would be the perfect night, being the anniversary of when they found out they were going to be parents, as well as five years exactly since he had asked her and been refused the second time that year. She had insisted then that they wait, for several reasons. First, to be sure that any threats against John, themselves and the children, if any, were manageable; second, to be sure that they still felt strongly enough about each other to make it work; and third, that there weren't any other reasons for them to feel obligated to marry each other. John believed that all of those questions had now been answered and he had been hoping that she would finally agree.

John sighed as he collected his girls and headed towards their home just outside New York City. Their lot extended about four acres which had been purchased only two years ago, when they had decided to settle there permanently giving their girls room to be free and set up an impenetrable fortress around them.

* * *

**Five Years Ago:**

She had not been feeling well for several weeks, but refused to admit it, continuing to work. She had finally succumbed to the tiredness and gone to her doctor.

It couldn't be. Zoe thought her doctor was pulling an April fool's prank on her. Except that it wasn't April and she certainly didn't think this was funny. The doctor had told her with certainty the one thing she never would have expected at her age. Zoe Morgan had a bun in the oven.

Stunned didn't even cover the depth of her emotions. Zoe sat unmoving on her couch, staring off into space as she contemplated her situation. She was on the phone with the pharmacist, listening to him tell her that for the better part of three months her method of birth control was non-existent. Quality control not being what it used to be; the pharmaceutical company that produced her birth control pills announced certain manufacturer defects, which could result, and did for her, in pregnancy.

Panic overwhelmed her. She was too old, she told herself. The life she and John led was not conducive to having children. Could she get rid of the baby? Unequivocally, the answer was no. She was a mature, self-sufficient, independent woman. There was no reason she couldn't raise this baby.

She was staring in disbelief at the third stick to confirm in the last hour what the doctor had informed her when John had come in, his expression concerned.

"Zoe, what's going on?"

He had to repeat himself before she appeared to hear him, gently she handed him the sticks, all three of them.

Drawing up her legs, she curled herself into a ball on the couch. She wrapped her arms tightly around her, and began to laugh. She laughed, until her stomach ached and she breathing was difficult. She laughed until tears soaked her cheeks, until she her body began to shudder with deep, quivering sobs.

"Zoe Morgan, will you be my wife," John asked earnestly.

Apparently, that still wasn't what she was expecting to hear from him. "You're asking me to marry you because you knocked me up? We're not children, John. I will not trap you into marriage because I'm pregnant." That's when the new vase she had purchased just months ago came careening toward him. He was glad yet again for his quick reflexes. Her hormones being what they were for a pregnant woman caused her to rattle off a succession of curses that slandered both his lineage and himself again.

Growling in frustration and a bit of desperation, she stomped to her room, and slammed the door behind her.

Again, he sat perched on couch like a moron. Again he couldn't bring himself to leave. They were going to be parents. And as much as it appeared to distress Zoe, he couldn't be happier. So, he made himself comfortable, lying on her couch, all night if he needed to again. He knew that she would come out eventually. He let her stew, it suited him just fine. If her couch was as close as he was getting to her and the baby that night, then he'd rather be there than anywhere else on earth.

He was woken up by her quiet movements as she stood in the doorway in her pajamas, her arms crossed at her chest, her brow furrowed in frustration. He sighed with a quiet calmness, knowing they could do anything they put their mind to.

"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Nope," he replied with a shrug.

"Then I guess you'd better come into the bedroom. Your timing sucks John; you better have a better reason for asking me to marry you the next time."


	3. Third Time's The Charm

* * *

**Present:**

When Zoe turned the car into their long driveway, she wondered what John had planned. She had expected to stay the night at the loft, having an early morning client meeting the next day, but his call had changed all that. Still keeping his loft for those nights he had to spend in the city, it was convenient when either one of them couldn't make it back to their home.

She stepped out of the car and walked to the front door of their home. Somewhere along the last few years, they started referring to his loft as the loft and their house outside of the city as home. The moment she stepped inside, the aroma hit her and she nodded in approval. John was cooking and it smelled heavenly.

But amid the wonderful aroma wafting through the house was chaos.

"I'm a rustler and I'm lassoing cows . . ." Gracie said running around in a pink cowboy hat, pink cowboy boots, holding Bear's leash as they ran around the house.

Zoe observed as John, the ex-CIA op who often worked with hand signals and non-verbal communication calmly walked over to the four year old picked her up like a sack of potatoes and said, "It's time for the pink rustler to get ready for bed. Did you lasso your sister?"

"Nuh-uh, Jossie's a doctor and she's working on Leon . . ." Gracie said referring to her twin sister, Jossie and their guinea pig, Leon.

With a barely detectable look of panic, John took the steps two at a time. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found his other daughter looking up at him innocently, pulling off her latex gloves. "What?"

"Josslyn, it is time for your baths," her father replied, clearly indicating herself and her twin sister perched on their daddy's shoulder.

"But daaaaddddy . . . I'm not done. I'm a general and I have to command my troops into war . . . " Jossie said with a stomp of her foot as she took off down the stairs right into her mother's arms.

With an upward quirk of a brow and a lip, her mother said, "The little general smells and won't be allowed to watch TV before bed if she doesn't turn her fanny back up those stairs . . . "

With a huff and a sigh, Jossie turned her "fanny" back up the stairs and headed towards the bathroom she shared with her sister.

No sooner had Jossie gone back upstairs with her mother bringing up the rear, then Gracie came running out of the bathroom with only her pink boots on and shouting, "I'm an astronaut and I'm zooming to the moon . . . " colliding with her daddy's knees. "Uumph . . . daaaaaddddy . . . ." she whined.

John knelt down and with a stern look aimed toward her, "young lady, the man from the moon is going to take the astronaut and the general into the bathtub right now . . . " He picked her up, shook her boots off of her and grabbed her sister and holding them like footballs, he finally made it into the bathroom.

"I'm Jacque Cousteau on a mission to capture sight of a ginormous whale," the excited look on the older of the twins face caused a rumbling laugh to erupt from her daddy.

He resumed shampooing both his daughters' hair and responded. "Well, even Jacque Cousteau needs to be washed and cleaned before bed."

And on continued the nighttime ritual, "I'm a super hero . . . I'm Auntie Joss solving crime in the big city . . . I'm Uncle Harold making lots of money . . . . I'm . . . ."

Zoe shook her head as she listened to her girls dream about what they wanted to be when they grew up. After everyone was cleaned up and into their pajamas, it was bedtime, and bedtime was mommy's turn to read. As she started to read to her girls, John headed downstairs to the kitchen, mouthing, "meet me downstairs . . . "

She glanced at him nodded and smiled a little, "Of course. . . "

* * *

"John?" she called out as she strode up the hallway to where she spotted the beautifully set dining room table flickering with candlelight. The wonderful scent of dinner wafted throughout the place. She could hear movement through the kitchen area and headed that way.

With a smile, she stepped into the kitchen to stand by the counter and watch John take something out of the oven. "Well, that certainly isn't an MRE."

"Of course it isn't."

Crossing her arms, she leveled a stare at him. "You mind telling me what this is about?"

"About?" he echoed as he moved toward the table to fill their wineglasses. "I don't know what you mean. Can't I cook you dinner just for the heck of it?"

"John, you don't do anything just for the heck of it. The munchkins should be down for the count."

He chuffed and, motioning for her to take a seat at the table.

Zoe gave him a wary eye as he held out a seat for her. He was wearing his trademark dark suit, looking and smelling heavenly; almost as heavenly as dinner even after chasing their girls around, giving them baths, and getting them ready for bed.

When he took the seat across from her, she continued, "So, why aren't the girls joining us? This would be right up their alley." She cocked her head, considered a moment, then added, "Or, is this their idea?"

He smiled and said, "I'd be an idiot not to listen to those two. They thought we needed some alone time."

Zoe shifted in her seat and stared at him intently for a minute or two, then smiled, lifted her glass and tapped it to his. The wine was just right.

"You must be starving. Let me get your dinner. Your daughters suggested Eggplant Parmesan." John said as he got up from the table.

She had to hand it to the girls, they knew her well. She loved Eggplant Parmesan. Settling in for a potentially long night, Zoe took sip after sip of wine. By the time John had reappeared with dinner, she had all but drained her glass.

"You need a refill," he commented with a smirk as he set down the dishes and promptly refilled her glass.

"Trying to get me inebriated, John?"

"Just trying to do something about your aim," he responded, shooting her a playful look out of the corner of his eye as he arranged their meal on the table before retaking his seat across from her. They enjoyed their dinner in companionable silence. Zoe shooting wary glances at him as he held her hand while they ate.

Zoe's apparent pleasure from the meal as much as she tried to hide it, was reward enough for John's efforts in the kitchen. Sighing, Zoe sank back in her chair and lifted her wine glass towards John.

"My compliments to the chef."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

* * *

"Zoe Morgan, will you be my wife?" He asked earnestly.

John didn't make a move toward her, but just watched her. He knew. He had sensed a change in her the past few months. He knew how the question was going to be answered and he would not push her. He had waited this long, he wasn't going to rush.

"Why?" she asked softly, almost whispering. "Why now?"

"Because, it's time. You and the girls have made me a happy man, content with the life that we chose."

Zoe sighed, wondering at what point she had reached a decision. Was it the moment she realized that they had already made a life together? Was it when she realized that John, the girls and herself were already a family unit? Was it when she realized that they were both happy; happier than they had ever been before? Was it when she realized the girls were free to dream of normal things such as what they wanted to be when they grew up?

Perhaps she had determined some time ago and, now that he asked again, she was simply acting on the long- held decision. It didn't matter; really, the only thing of which she was sure of was that she had no doubts.

"Yes," she whispered in awe.

 

The End


End file.
